Yet what of it all

This infinite space, this aidless time?

Kings are we of it all,

For, <) King of it all, we love Thee, Who art Love;

And our hearts art" at rest in Thyself

Whr) art more than it all,

In Whom all time, all spare, an;» summed up,

One* radiant thought of Thy mind,

One urge of Thy love, one pulse oi Thy life,

That life which even through us

Triumphantly beats, destroying death and necessity.

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